Unconventional Art
by Generic-Christmas-Candy
Summary: AU. Bonnie is starting at the first public school she's attended since her first day of preschool. At first, it's all new faces and new experiences, but the one person from her past begins to draw her in more and more until she is unable to ignore the one person seemingly set on bringing her down. Bubbline.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Hey all. This is my first Adventure Time fic and it is an AU. Sorry about that. I would love to be able to write something that fits within the actual world, but I am currently too intimidated by that concept. This is going to be a Bubbline fic. It is probably going to be horribly cliché. I hope you like it anyway.**

**I do not own Adventure Time or any of its characters. **

"_All right boys and girls! I expect you all to play nicely. Your mothers and fathers will be here soon to pick you up." Mrs. Angela, my sweet preschool teacher spoke her customary end of the day greeting for the first time that day. The preschoolers' faces lit up with excitement. They had freedom to choose any activity they pleased for the remainder of the day._

"_Bonnie! Bonnie!" A pretty little girl with curly locks raced up to me, arms full of toys. "Let's play house!" She squealed in glee. I shut my handwriting book and jumped up. _

"_Okay!" I followed her skipping step to the play room._

"_We have to build a house first."_

"_Right." The little girl started off, but even at four-years-old, I could tell that her architectural design was horribly flawed. "Maybe you should dress up the dolls for dinner."_

"_Good idea! That's my favorite part!" The two of us worked in quiet harmony until, at last, we had dolls dressed for the perfect family and an even more perfect house. _

"_Can I play?" A small girl with long, black hair asked. She held a ratty stuffed animal to her chest._

"_Who is it?" My blonde companion asked, peeking her head out of the tower. "Oh, it's her." _

"_Huh?" I looked between the two. The black haired girl looked frustrated._

"_Go away, Marceline. No one wants to play with you. You're a weirdo!" The blonde girl shouted. Marceline bit her lip, eyes welling up with tears. It looked like she was going to cry. Then, she hugged her stuffed animal closer, threw up her head, and puffed up her chest like a proud bird._

"_Oh, it's Ruby." She turned her stuffed animal to face her. "Didn't know it was her, did you, Hambo?" She shook her stuffed animal's head. "I've got an idea for a really fun game." Her childish voice took on a menacing tone as she stepped forward. "It's called you better call the doctor!" She kicked the block house down with Ruby inside. _

"_Marceline!" Mrs. Angela scolded, rushing across the room to retrieve the crying Ruby. Before she took Marceline to the time out chair, Marceline locked eyes with me. I could tell there were many thoughts going on behind her narrowed eyes, but I could not tell what those thoughts were about._

"_Don't look at Bonnie like that! She's my best friend!" Ruby shouted. I watched as Marceline's thoughtful anger turned to full, unconfusable anger._

_Not long after that, my parents found a magnet school. They thought that the regular preschool was not a big enough challenge for me, so they had me transferred as soon as my test scores showed that I was not only eligible, but bound to be at the top of my class. _

Up until eighth, I attended the high school extension of the magnet school. Shortly before the start of my freshman year, it went under. Most of the parents who sent their kids there wanted their kids at more high-class schools and moved. The rest of us didn't have the kinds of parents that had the money to keep the school floating.

"It is a public school, Bonnibel. You will have to work twice as hard to stay ahead."

"It's alright mother. I'll be fine, really." I grasped her hands in mine and smiled. After a while, she sighed and returned my smile.

"If you say so, sweetheart."

"I'll see you after school." I kissed her on the cheek, grabbed my backpack, and left. I was not scared about starting at a new school. My classmates at the magnet school were stuck up and hard to get along with without sacrifice of personal sanity. I had been through Anna's blonde stage and Danielle's modeling career and all the drama that came with the two girls when they decided that competition was inevitable. Public high schools had nothing on that.

It was entertaining to watch the crowds of students wander about. Almost all the freshmen had their heads down if they weren't part of the groups that had pre-formed. Students wearing the colors from old grade schools stood together, looking mismatched. Some girls with tightly combed hair stood close to the boys who might wind up being jocks. They talked loudly and earned various different looks from older girls with the same tight hair and abundance of make-up.

Butterflies sprung to life in my stomach. For the first time, I started feeling the weight of the beginning of high school. I knew that I would be fine in the academics, but the social life worried me. I took out my compact mirror and checked my own make-up. My freshly-dyed pink hair lay straight against my back, each strand tamed with hairspray. The tips were neatly cut. My make-up was all varying degrees of pink. I liked the way it looked, as girly as that seemed.

"And here we have little miss pretty in pink checking herself out in the mirror." A sarcastic voice broadcasted my actions, promptly bringing the readjustment of my lip gloss to a stop. I clicked my mirror shut and looked up. The girl hadn't bothered to stop walking.

"Looks like any other school. How disappointing." The male walking arm-in-arm beside her was looking at some sporty blonde as he spoke. "Good little girls and all." This earned a loud rebuke from the sporty blonde. The sarcastic girl put a hand to her face long black hair spilling over her shoulders.

"Marshal, are you serious?" She groaned and walked away from her male look-alike who had begun a heated conversation with the blonde. The black haired girl looked my way and caught me watching her. She raised an eyebrow. "What are you looking at, Bubblegum?"

"Bubblegum?" I asked, thrown off by the nickname.

"Yeah. You're all pink." She lifted an arm when noticing my continued confusion. "Like bubblegum." She laughed and shook her head. "For one of the brainiacs, you're sure not that smart."

"Hmph. I don't have to stand here and take that from you." I crossed my arms over my chest and walked away.

"Whatever you say, princess."

"Enough with the nicknames!" I yelled but did not turn back. She only laughed.

By the time classes had started, I had found a few girls that I did not mind talking to. One of them had the idea of joining the debate team. This idea caught my curiosity instantly. If I joined the team, I could participate in intense academic combat with worthy components from a variety of different schools. I made sure to write down the times for the try-outs in my planner. Before the bell rang, my first two weeks were booked with introductory club meetings and try-outs for a few teams.

"Now that's getting off to a good start." I smiled to myself and shut my planner.

"Nerd." The black-haired girl from earlier spoke as she walked by. I did not have a chance to retort before the teacher spoke.

"Good morning, class. This is your homeroom, division number 119. My name is Mr. Johnson. We'll begin with attendance." I paid attention to the names, hoping to remember as many of them as possible. This would be my homeroom class until I graduated. It would be in my best interest to get to know their names.

"Marceline." Mr. Johnson called. The black-haired girl raised her hand. The name sounded so familiar. She sat kicked back in her chair, high-heeled boots on the chair in front of her, arms crossed behind her head. Her plaid shirt hugged her body, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Her ultra tight skinny jeans went into her boots, the bottoms of them completely hidden.

"Bonnibel. Bonnibel?"

"Huh? Oh. Present!" I raised my hand and felt my face turn red.

"Looks like we have our honorary space cadet. Welcome back to earth, Miss Bonnie." I covered my face with my hands, barely catching the expression on Marceline's face that accompanied her laughter.

"Sorry I'm late!" A loud voice cut through the room. I looked up in time to see the sport blonde trip into the classroom, cheeks bright-red. "My name is Fionna!" She sat in the seat beside me and dropped her bag onto the ground with an audible thud.

"Is this going to become a habit?" Mr. Johnson asked.

"To be honest sir, it might be." Fionna answered, honesty radiating from every fiber of her being. Mr. Johnson stared at her, slack-jawed, until the rest of the class burst into laughter.

"This will be one hell of a four years." Mr. Johnson scratched the back of his head. "Alright ladies and gentlemen. I'm passing out a survey the board wants you all to complete. It examines your goals for high school, college, the future, yada yada yada. You've got the rest of the hour to fill it out, socialize, and get your butts to class."

"I like him." Fionna nodded toward Mr. Johnson and smiled. "My name's Fionna. What's yours?"

"You can call me Bonnie. Pleased to meet you." I extended my hand. Fionna cocked her head to the side, frozen for a second before she shook my hand.

"You're so formal! You make me feel like I just walked in on some fancy conference. You don't need to be so polite. You can just say, 'Hey Fionna! What's the word on the streets?' It sounds better." She laughed. "I'm kidding. Partway." I laughed.

"So what classes do you have?" Fionna asked. Her schedule was crumpled in her hands.

"Let's see." I opened my folder and slid it out. "Biology I, algebra II, gym yuck, world history, survey literature, and art. What are your classes?"

"I've got art, gym, world history... mathematical concepts... What the glob is that?" She stopped and looked up at me. "Umm gym... Right. Gym, biology, and survey literature. It looks like we've got everything except math together!" She smiled. I returned it.

I picked up my survey and skimmed through the questions. They were absurd. One of them asked if I thought I would enjoy chopping down trees. That was the most ridiculous of the questions, but there were a few other gems in there.

"Chopping down trees does sound like fun." Fionna bit the tip of her pencil, seemingly in deep thought. "But if I check that, they're going to say I should be a lumberjack again."

"Again?"

"Yeah. We had to fill out these same dumb things last year and it said I should be a lumberjack." She answered, frowning. I couldn't help but laugh. "Hey, you can laugh, but you weren't told your dream job was living in a field with burly men while singing and cutting down trees."

The rest of the day was just as laid back. Teachers went over their syllabuses, had us sign out books, and played name games more times than I thought possible. I saw several of the students from my homeroom and many students from other freshman divisions.

My last class of the day was art. I had been looking forward to the class. I never disliked art and I was excited by the possibility of working with many different mediums. My bag contained sharpened pencils, a sketchbook, and various other traditional supplies. Out of all my classes, the students in this one were from the most diverse age pool. Seniors trying to fit in their art requirement sat unsegregated from the terrified freshmen that tried their best to avoid eye contact.

At my table was Fionna, her newly made friend, Finn, a girl with bright orange hair, and an empty chair.

"Have you met Finn?" Fionna asked. "I'll be back in a second. I've got to go say hi to someone."

"I have not." I offered my hand and watched his eyes go wide. "My name is Bonnibel, but you guys can call me Bonnie."

"H-hi Bonnie." Finn blinked a few times before regaining his exuberant composure. "Nice to meet ya!" He grinned from ear to ear.

"Looks like you've got yourself quite the fan base, huh Princess?" Marceline's voice rung out as she sat beside me.

"That's my seat!" Fionna cried out upon returning.

"Sorry kiddo." Marceline propped her bag against the chair and shrugged. "Bag's down."

"So is mine!" She argued. Marceline slid the backpack to the other side of the table. Fionna clenched her fists and stomped around to the other side of the table. "Do you want to start a fight?" She asked, arms crossed over her chest, lip jutted out in a visible sulk.

"It depends. With who?" She asked and turned her head toward me. When we locked eyes, her lips curved into a grin and she laughed.

"Come on guys." Finn lifted up both hands. Fionna harrumphed and sat back in her seat. Marceline laughed harder. Her long, black hair was so long that it almost touched the floor. I'd seen girls with long hair before, but it never looked good. It always looked scraggly and kind of dull. Hers, though, was the exact opposite. Even though it endured the hustle and bustle of the crowded hallways and the wind of the open windows and courtyard, it was beautiful. Somehow, on her, that didn't seem unusual. Her clothes were old, some off-brand, but they looked like they could very well have been designed specifically to flatter Marceline. Everything seemed perfectly put together even though none of it was.

"Whatever." Fionna muttered her dissent as the teacher walked in.

"Good afternoon my future artists." The teacher walked in. Her hair was braided and thick glasses sat on her nose. "Despite what you may have heard, this is not going to be your typical art class. I want all of you to look at art from different angles. As many different angles as possible." She walked to her desk and lifted up a pack of balloons. "The first thing I want you to do is fill these up with as much paint as you can and tac them up to that canvas over there." Immediately, there was a murmur of excitement. "I want this class to change the way you think of the world. What is normal? What is unacceptable? If you are interested in something, try it. Just because it does not fall within normal conventions does not mean that it is wrong, ugly, or anything of the sort. With that said, let's begin."

As I rose to my feet, I caught Marceline's gaze out of the corner of my eye. She grinned and brushed past me.

**A/N: Well, it was going to be a one shot. For the love of God! Why can I not write something short? My angst aside, I am excited to write the next chapter in this. I want to be able to show Marceline's character a lot more and get to developing their relationship as soon as possible.**

**I hope you'll stick around for the next installment! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Man! The positive feedback I have gotten is so unexpected. I'm mega flattered. Thanks, you guys. You know how to make someone's day bright and shiny. Here is another chapter. I want to show the various relationships and tensions that exist in the characters' lives, primarily Bonnie and Marceline's lives. Let me know if it gets too angsty.**

**I do not own Adventure Time or any characters. **

"Due to this grievous miscalculation, it is possible that the theoretical yield could have been correct." I lowered my cue cards and exhaled. My teacher looked pleased. My classmates had mixed expressions. Some looked impressed. Some looked irritated. Some looked concerned. I took my seat and shrugged off the animosity oozing from a particularly loud-mouthed girl that rose to give her presentation.

"Thank you, Bonnibel. Well done. Anna," Mrs. Byrd gestured to the blackboard.

"Yes, Mrs. Byrd." Anna cleared her throat and lifted her brightly colored cards.

"Yes, Mrs. Byrd." A high-pitched, nasally imitation of Anna's voice caught my attention. Not too many people heard it, but those who did eshifted uncomfortably in their seats, or snickered, or looked around the room with venom practically dripping from their eyes. I watched as the black-haired boy I'd learned to be Marshall Lee elbowed Marceline. The two exchanged amused looks then quickly turned their heads away, both straining not to laugh. Anna did not notice any of it and carried on with her presentation.

"Good." Mrs. Byrd nodded once and motioned for Anna to return to her seat when she was finished.

"Does anyone have any questions? I know this is probably a bit complex and I wouldn't want to act like I am flaunting my knowledge to make other people look stupid. I'm not that kind of person." Anna looked at me as she said this. My fists clenched and, immediately, I wanted to rip her throat out.

"Oh cram it, pretty pretty poser. That was as complex as addition. Sit down and try to wipe the green off your face." Marceline brushed the hair from her face to show her sneer.

"What did you just say?" Anna drew her shoulders back, furious.

"Now now, girls." Mrs. Byrd put her hands up. "That's not necessary."

"Mrs. Byrd, she just insulted me in front of the entire class. You're not seriously going to let her do that, are you? Mr. Eriksson wouldn't have let that go on for a second." Mr. Eriksson was the old chemistry teacher. He had retired at the end of last year. Mrs. Byrd was a new teacher and also his replacement. Marceline raised an eyebrow, watching Mrs. Byrd for her reaction.

"We will discuss this after class. There is still time for one more presentation and I would like to stay on schedule." Mrs. Byrd spoke with authority but her expression showed her uncertainty. "Fionna, would you like to present?"

"Yes!" I couldn't tell if she was answering Mrs. Byrd or cheering. As Fionna dug a slew of bright props from her bag, I turned to Marceline, touched. There was no way to be certain, but it felt like she had defended me. When she caught my look, Marceline cocked her head to the side, brow raised in question.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the amazing world of chemistry!" I looked to the front of the room and my jaw dropped. Fionna was wearing a mustache, wig, and had transformed herself into Albert Einstein. Marshall Lee's laughter was louder than anyone else's. The cheerful reaction from the class encouraged Fiona.

"Awh man." Finn slumped in his desk, setting his head on his arms. "I was gonna do that." He muttered to himself. For some reason, that did not surprise me.

When class ended. Marceline and Anna were held back to talk. Marceline crossed her arms over her chest, covering the anti-smoking label that's faded color showed signs of frequent use. I slowed down packing up my things so that I could hear some of what was said. With the passing periods so short, it seemed like Mrs. Byrd wanted to waste no time on waiting for privacy.

"Ms. Abadeer, you know better than to insult your classmates. That kind of behavior is completely unnecessary."

"She knows that. She just wants to 'fight the man' and rebel against everything because that's supposed to be cool."

"Anna!" Mrs. Byrd snapped. Marceline only laughed.

"Cute, Anna." She turned one of her palms upright. "Sorry for the interruption, Mrs. Byrd. It won't happen again."

"That's a lie. She once bullied a girl so badly that she left the school, Mrs. Byrd. Ask anyone. I'm just trying to show my classmates that it's okay to stand up to her."

"It sounds like this is a much deeper problem than I thought." Mrs. Byrd rubbed her face with her hands, visibly stressed.

"If you'd like, I can always go to practice late so I can fill you in on everything after classes end." Anna clasped her hands together in front of her, putting on her best innocent face. Marceline shook her head and took a step toward the door.

"Is there anything else you'd like to say, Mrs. Byrd?" Marceline spoke with gritted teeth.

"Hey!" I was speaking before I could reason with myself enough to know it was an absolutely idiotic idea. "That's not fair. You don't know Marceline's side of the story. And besides, Marceline was sticking up for me."

"Bonnibel, you're still here?" Mrs. Byrd turned around, a bit surprised to see that I had not left. All of the other students had filtered out. "What do you mean?"

"What Anna said about Marceline is unfair. There are two sides to every story. Only hearing the story where Marceline is demonized will result in an incredible bias."

"Girls. You all need to work out whatever it is that is going on and come back to class tomorrow with a different attitude. I do not want to hear anymore outbursts, side comments, or bickering. If I do, you will be suspended immediately. Am I understood?"

"Yes ma'am." The three of us spoke in unison, turned, and left. At the door, Anna muttered a stream of insults so quickly that I could barely make them out before she left. I lowered my head and took a few steps forward. My heart sunk. I did not want Mrs. Byrd to think of me as a problem student.

"Hey." I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned quickly. "Thanks." It was Marceline.

"Oh, um." I bit my lip and shrugged. The confidence I had felt earlier was gone and replaced with a flustered discomfort. "No problem."

"Don't go sticking your neck out for me. What Anna said is true. I'm trouble." She took her hand from my shoulder and grinned. "And proud of it." She walked away but turned to look over her shoulder once. "See you around, Bubblegum."

"S-see ya." I stared after her. I blinked a few times and shook my head. Did I just stutter? I never stuttered. I pursed my lips and walked quickly to my next class, cheeks burning. But this time, the agitation wasn't because of my reputation with my teacher.

"How are you doing at the public school, Bonnie?" My mom asked, passing me the salad.

"I'm doing well. I think that I'm going to join the debate team. It seems like a good challenge-"

"Challenge? Are your classes really that easy for you that you'd need to join a club just to challenge yourself?" My dad cut me off. He set the steak platter down with much more force than necessary.

"No, that's not it at all."

"So then you are struggling with classes meant for average students?" My mother joined in immediately. My heart sunk. I had been hoping to have a normal dinner, one without my parents ragging on me about not trying hard enough.

"I am getting solid scores on all of my assignments and assessments. I do need to study for them and work, but I do not think that I would fail if I didn't put in as much effort as I am now. I just think that I could be doing more." I was careful with my word choice. I wanted to avoid putting out anything they could latch on to.

"Then why are you not doing it already?" My dad asked "Are you comfortable with slacking?"

"No. The try-outs are in three days. I haven't had a chance to join yet so I've been studying policy debate, the rules, and the topics. I joined the choir, rehearsal starts next Monday. I am running for student government, but the election has not happened yet."

"Fine." My father busied himself with cutting into the steak. I waited to make sure my mother was done speaking before picking at the salad.

By the time dinner had ended, I heard at least three different ways in which I was making "terrible life choices" and was "ruining my future" by doing what I was doing or by not doing what I was not doing. I had agreed that I would join the debate team and pretended that I believed my mother that it was her idea.

I threw myself into my bed and screamed into my pillow. For some stupid reason, I had thought that they would get better when I got into high school. I thought that when they were separated from the overly competitive and snobbish magnet school parents that they'd be a bit more normal. It didn't seem like I was going to get that kind of relief.

When I had checked my emotions, I rolled out of bed and to my desk. There were still a few math problems I had not finished. Other than that, my homework was mostly done. I'd never tell my parents, but the classes were really easy. The homework loads were very minimal.

My phone buzzed once, letting me know that I'd gotten a text. I finished the last problem and picked it up.

_Hey Bon Bon! Did you do the math yet? _It was Fiona.

_I just finished. What's up?_

_What page is it on?_

_It was a worksheet. Did you get it?_

_Uh oh. _There was a long wait before her next message. _Oh good. I found it. Thanks, Bon Bon!_

_No problem. See you tomorrow._

I laughed to myself and shut my phone. Fiona and I were quickly becoming good friends. There was something about her naïve and innocent look on life that made me want to be around her. She was full of energy and passion, but she was also very real. Sure she was a bit of a spazz, but that was endearing in and of itself. My phone buzzed again.

_Hey Bonnie?_ The text was void of any weird nicknames or jokes. The seriousness of it bugged me.

_Yeah?_ I waited in silent agony for her response.

_So normally I don't do this, but someone asked me for your number and I gave it to them. I'm really sorry. _I read the text a few times. Nothing about that seemed like reason for such regret.

_That's fine. I don't mind. People do that all the time. Who was it? _

_It was Marceline. _Before I could respond, another text came in. _Well, it was Marshall Lee, but he was asking for Marceline. Are you mad?_

_No! Don't worry. Really._

_Are you sure?_

_Positive._

_Oh thank glob. _

I let out my breath, face turning hot quickly. Why did Marceline want my phone number? I was glad that I had finished my homework early. After that, my concentration was shot. Up until I went to bed, I was waiting for a call or text. I checked my messages again and again, losing sleep without doubt, but nothing came.

**A/N: I hope that you guys liked this chapter. Please, if you'd like, give feedback and let me know if you think that the way Bonnie's parents act is believable. Heck, I'd like to hear if any of it is believable/unbelievable. Characters, relationships, reactions, etc. I like to suspend doubt, stay in character, and make a good story. Let me know if I'm falling short and I'll gladly see what I can do to improve. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I love you guys! You are so nice for saying so many awesome things. You make me feel like a cool person. Sorry for keeping you waiting on this chapter. I am still working on developing the backstories for the characters. This chapter focuses mostly on Marceline's story. I'm not sure how I feel about it, so feel free to drop in some suggestions. **

**I do not own Adventure Time or any of its characters.**

I flipped through the pages of the years old music book I'd been handed. Pages were bent, parts were highlighted in various different colors, and notes that made little sense to me were scribbled everywhere. The students around me sat in their chairs, legs kicked in front of them, talking loudly. It was clear that girls chamber choir was not taken seriously. Since I was far from skillful in terms of singing, I was not too put off.

"Raise your hand if you know your vocal range." Mr. Haworth walked to the front of the room, tapping his baton against the palm of his hand. Many of the girls raised their hands. When asked their range, most responded with soprano I as their response. "It looks like we have a rather large soprano section." He stood in contemplative silence for a while. The sound of the door opening distracted him from his thoughts. Everyone looked toward the door as Marceline walked in, head held high.

"Oh great. What is she doing here?" A self-proclaimed soprano whispered to those nearby her.

"If you can't even show up to rehearsal on time, you really shouldn't bother showing up at all." Another girl chimed in. There was a chorus of agreement. Mr. Haworth quieted them shortly after. I gritted my teeth, frustrated to the point of hyperventilation with the overwhelming and constant put downs directed toward Marceline.

"The girls have a point, Ms. Abadeer. Coming in late is a blatant display of disrespect." Mr. Haworth crossed his arms over his chest, locking eyes with Marceline. Marceline made a face and put her hand on her hip.

"Seriously?" She held the folder that had been tucked under her arm in the air. "I was making copies of the warm-ups. I'm the T.A. Remember?" She walked forward and dropped the folder onto his music stand before taking her seat in an empty desk.

"Oh. My apologies." He shifted his weight, looking both guilty and embarrassed for his mistake. He cleared his throat. "Disregard my last question. Due to the imbalance in parts, we are going to have auditions. Everyone will get a part in the choir, so audition is not the best word, but your performance will determine your part in the songs." He lifted up a less tattered copy of the music then set it down again. "We'll begin with warm ups. Everyone, please grab a copy and return to your seats. Today we will focus on technique, breathing, posture, and the like. In our next rehearsal, we will have our 'auditions.' Any questions?"

"Excuse me, Mr. Hawthorn?" Anna's voice was as obvious and unwelcome.

"Yes, Ms. Hart?"

"How do you become a T.A. for a class?" She asked. My blood boiled.

"We can discuss this later, Ms. Hart. We need to get started." He huffed out a breath and raised his baton. Everyone hurried to grab a sheet of music. The warm ups were led almost completely without the warm up sheets, but it went smoothly enough. Due to the singing and repetition of drills and other practices, rehearsal was free from the drama that trickled in at the beginning. As it came to a close, though, that changed.

"Nicely done, everyone. I want to announce one more thing before I dismiss you. Our music chairman will be sitting in on the auditions next week. She will make selections for a contest choir. If this is something you are interested in, please pay particular attention to the songs on pages 94, 36, and 182." He clamped his hands together and took a step back. "That's all. Have a nice evening. Good work today. I'll see you all Thursday."

I closed my book and exhaled. Choir had been more work than I had originally thought. If it had not been for my mother's insistence that I be well rounded, that composition was not enough involvement in music, I would not have joined. It was not that I disliked singing, quite the opposite. Every time I was alone, I sang. That was the problem, though. I could only get the nerve to sing when I knew no one was around. Even when surrounded by the dozens of girls singing during practice, I kept my voice quiet, sometimes choosing to only mouth out the syllables or words that went along with the warm up and technique practices.

"So are you going to try for the contest choir?" A girl asked another girl behind me.

"Yeah. I mean, I was in it last year and we won. So why not? What about you?"

"I'm going to try, but I'm a violinist at heart."

"Do you think freshmen stand a chance of making it?" Another girl asked.

"Totally. Being fresh meat means the director gets to squeeze you dry for four years." The veteran contest choir girl answered.

"Who is our accompanist this year?" The second girl asked.

"No clue. It better not be Ms. White again, though. When she fell asleep during last year's competition, I didn't know if she was going to wake up." The veteran laughed at her own joke.

"That's awful, Sarah!" The freshman exclaimed.

"Hey girls."

"Hey Anna." The three responded in unison.

"What do you think of this year's crop?" She asked. By this point, the four were walking in front of me toward the parking lot.

"They've got nothing on last year's group." Sarah shrugged. "What do you think, Louisa?"

"I don't know. We didn't actually sing." The second girl, Louisa, answered.

"Trust me, Erika, last year was better even in the first practice." Anna spoke to the freshman. "You're not going to have any trouble getting in."

"Awesome!" Erika zipped her bag after putting her music book inside.

"I'll be section leader for the sopranos more than likely. With Heather graduating, I don't think there is going to be any competition." Anna spoke with arrogant confidence. Though I knew I did not have the talent or experience, part of me wanted to steal that spot from her just to have the opportunity to rub it in her smug face. I still had not forgiven her for her display in chemistry class.

"Since when?" A familiar voice rang out from the parking lot. It was followed by laughter. "That's cute. Okay loverboy, you do that. Yeah. Yeah I'll walk. See you later, Abadork." I was smiling to myself without thinking about it. I knew the voice. I heard it every day in art class as she and Finn bantered over creating the most "artistic art." Her sarcastic responses to just about everything made me laugh.

"I was wondering what that cackling noise was." Anna raised her voice so that Marceline, who was on the other side of the student parking lot, could hear. "I should've figured it was the wicked witch of the east."

"Aren't you the clever one." Marceline drawled, crossing her arms over her chest. "What are you doing here anyway? Didn't you smash up your priss-mobile when you went up to the lake?" Marceline uncrossed her arms and reached her hand into her pocket. It was lit up with the notice of a message or phone call. I couldn't tell which one from where I stood, ducked down beside a car. I had never been one to spy, but it was happening more and more lately where I would find myself unable to walk away, especially if it regarded Marceline.

"You are such a creep. Why do you always look up everything I do? Are you in love with me or something? Sorry, I'm not in to people like you. I hope that doesn't break your little freak heart."

"Oh whatever will I do?" Marceline placed both hands over her heart and threw her head back with melodramatic flare. "My secret is out! I am deeply in love with you, Anna." She scoffed and put her hand on her hip. "You're so perceptive. The whole world is in love with you, Anna, that's why you shout every detail of your life at the top of your lungs whenever someone's around to hear it. 'I went camping in daddy's new RV!' 'I am going to spend my spring break in the Bahamas.' 'I changed my own underwear today!' Let me tell you something, sweetheart," Marceline took a step forward. "No. One. Cares." She accented each word with the tap of her high heeled boot.

"Do you want to say that to my face?" Anna walked forward, aggression visible in her movement.

"I don't know if I can." Marceline put up her hands and took a step back, smirking as she did so.

"Why not? Are you afraid?"

"Yeah. Last time I walked too close to you, the smell of your perfume almost killed me. I'm afraid if I touch you, it might burn through my skin like some sort of tramp acid." Marceline dropped her arms to her sides, completely unbothered by Anna's increasing approach.

"I am so sick of you and your crap."

"That goes both ways, hon." Marceline leaned against the wall behind her. I gripped the side of the car wheel, tense, uncertain.

"It's about time someone taught you to shut your ugly mouth." Anna dropped her bag on the ground and closed the remaining distance in a few steps. I leaped to my feet and shouted at them to stop, but it was to no avail. Marceline had Anna on the ground in a matter of seconds. Sarah, Rose, and Louisa rushed to her aid. Even with Marceline's agility, I knew there was no chance of her winning four on one. Throwing caution to the wind, I ran to where the five stood, swinging my backpack and hitting whoever I could with it.

"Woah!" I barely recognized Fiona's voice in the adrenaline-fueled frenzy. Someone grabbed my hair and pulled the backpack from my hands. "Finn! Get your butt over here!"

"I wish Ruby was here to see this!" Anna hissed. Sarah had Marceline's arm twisted behind her back. Before anything could happen, we were all knocked to the ground by the combined force of Fiona, Finn, and some other passerby's. They pried us apart. All of us were breathing heavily. None of us were spared from injury.

"What the math is going on?" Finn asked, letting go of me quickly. Marceline brushed Fiona's hands off, grabbed her backpack, and walked briskly away.

"Marce-freak decided-"

"Don't call her that!" Finn shouted.

"Clearly you don't know her." Anna turned her back on us and walked away.

"Are you alright, Bonnie?" Finn asked, worry clear in his bright eyes.

"Yeah. Thanks, guys. You really saved the day."

"No problemo!" Fiona chirped, a smile on her face. "So what happened?"

"I'm not really sure. Anna picked a fight with Marceline then things just... blew up." I answered, looking over my shoulder. She was out of sight.

"That blows. Marce is pretty cool." Finn furrowed his brow.

"I wonder what got Anna's butt in a nut." Fionna crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'd better get going. My mom will flip if I don't get back before the sun sets." I thanked them again and left the parking lot. Originally, I'd planned on using it as a shortcut to my house, but I had different plans in mind. I needed to find Marceline.

The neighborhood was far from foreign to me, but I had no idea where I would be able to find Marceline. She had never been in the libraries or any of the places I frequented. I checked my watch, noting that I only had ten minutes or so left before sunset. As my search continued, time ticked by faster and faster. I was forced to retreat to my house without finding her.

"She probably went home." I muttered to myself, a pathetic attempt at consolation. I lowered my head and pocketed my hands. I was disappointed that I hadn't found her, but I was glad that I had jumped in. Finn and Fiona probably would've still put an end to it. My assistance probably didn't do that much, but if I had been of one bit of use, it was worth it.

I sighed and turned the corner to the second to last block before my house. There, in the small separation between one set of buildings and the other, I noticed a bright red, albeit beaten up backpack My heart skipped a beat. I knew whose it was immediately. Without invitation, I walked into the sorry excuse of an alley. Propped on a discarded chair was Marceline. Her face was buried in her hands.

"Hey." I spoke quietly, tentative. She sat up with a jerk, surprise on her face.

"Hey yourself, Bubblegum." She cleared her throat and ran her fingers through her hair a couple of times. I wanted to ask her if she was okay. I wanted to grab her by her arm, force her into my house, and find every first-aid item I owned. Aside from a few scrapes, she looked fine, but just those few scrapes made my skin crawl. I wanted to rip Anna's eyes out.

"Did you have fun playing with your friends?" I asked, praying that my attempt at lightheartedness would be taken well. Marceline looked confused for a bit before laughing.

"You could say that." She bit her lip, quiet for a bit. "Thanks for uh," She gestured. "Earlier."

"I've been looking for an excuse to knock Anna upside the head since I met her. I should be the one thanking you." I grinned and walked to where she stood, choosing to lean against the wall.

"She's been a slimeball since day one. She probably oozed out of her mother like snot from the nose of some bratty kid." The humor in Marceline's tone and smirk were forced.

"Do you mind if I ask what happened between you two?" I knew I was pushing it by asking, but my curiosity got the better of me.

"It's... kind of a long story."

"I've got time." I answered quickly. Marceline laughed halfheartedly.

"My dad is kind of an important guy. I don't really know what he does, but he's got tons of money, tons of friends, and even more enemies. I doubt it's all... legal" She spoke slowly, attempting to find the right words. "My dad worked with Mr. Schryer for a while. Mr. Schryer worked under him since my dad owns the business. Anyway, he had a daughter my age so he and my dad decided that we should be best friends. We got stuck at each other's houses a lot, mainly hers since my mom wasn't around. After a while, we had a pretty solid group of pre-preschool friends." Marceline pulled her phone out of her pocket, grimaced, and dropped it back in.

"Stuff went down in my dad's business and Mr. Schryer tried to launch this crazy coup d'etat. My dad totally crushed him. Long story short, her dad said we couldn't play together anymore, my dad tried to... uh, illegal stuff." She rubbed the back of her neck and made a face as if to say 'my dad is a character, don't ask'. "The other kids kept hanging out with Ruby, that was the name of Mr. Shryer's daughter since her mom kept inviting them over. Most of the time I got pawned off on a family member, mostly Marshall Lee and his mom. By the time preschool started, it was me against all of them. I guess it never really changed."

"That is so totally unfair. You didn't do anything wrong!" I ignored the passing of time. I could always tell my mom that practice ran late. Or that I got chased by a dog. That would be more believable with the state of my clothes.

"Not exactly. To be honest, Ruby was a brat from day one. She was bossy, loud, pretentious, entitled." Marceline laughed. "I wasn't too upset when my dad said we had to stop hanging out. I liked Marshall Lee a lot better. He's actually got a brain in his head, you know?" She shrugged and looked up at the sky.

"So how did things get to this point?" I asked.

"Hm?"

"Well, I mean, it doesn't just go from not being allowed to hang out to well, beating each other up in a parking lot."

"Oh." Marceline made a face and rocked her head from side to side. "I guess it's because Ruby and I were in to the same things. It'd be the understatement of the year to say that we competed with each other and that it got out of hand." She laughed uncomfortably. "Even though she had all her little cronies, I won and won. But..." Marceline stood up and looked around, her tone quickening. "Eventually winning didn't matter that much. Things changed. Priorities changed. Now I just want to stay as far from her and the brat-brigade as possible."

"That sucks." I could she had left out a major part of the story. Childhood rivalry only went so far. That and, judging from what Anna had said the other day, Ruby left the school because of it. With everyone so against Marceline, it had to be more than Ruby's friends sticking up for her or sticking on her side. And how was Anna involved? There were details missing, but I wasn't going to pry anymore than I already had. Marceline had a rough enough day without reliving the past, whether she was the cause of the problems, the victim, or somewhere in between. Either way, she was stuck with a bunch of people that didn't like her and the kind of reputation that had people judging her before she walked into the room.

"What about you, Princess? What's your life story?" She changed the topic and checked her watch. "You need to get home?"

"Oh!" I checked my own watch though I already knew the time. I'd been sneaking a discreet look at my watch every time I could. "Yeah, I should. I don't want my mom to be upset."

"Overprotective parents?"

"You don't know the half of it." I laughed even though it wasn't that funny of a situation.

"All right. I'll walk you home." She lifted her backpack from the ground and brushed the dirt from the bottom. I felt my cheeks turn hot. The gesture, walking me home, it was so...

"Thanks. Want to stay for dinner?" I kicked myself inwardly. We were hardly even friends. Really, we were just people who talked in class and who managed to get dragged into a fight together. Or well, she got into a fight and I jumped in like a mad woman. Why in the world would she want to have dinner at my house?

"Sure. You guys aren't vegetarians or something like that, are you?" She asked, motioning for me to lead the way. I was floored by the ease of her response.

"Not really." I answered, trying to hide my enthusiasm.

"Not really?"

"My parents are kind of health freaks."

"Oh. That's fun." She snickered. "I've got a candy bar in my backpack. You think they'll run me out if I bring it in the house?"

"They're not that bad!" I pretended I was offended by the comment. She laughed.

"Hey, you never know." She looked at her phone again then back to me. "So where are you from? I haven't seen you since, nevermind. I probably never saw you before."

"Oh. I've always lived around here, I just went to that private school."

"All through grade school?"

"Preschool, kindergarten, and grade school. Yep."

"Hm. What was that like?" She seemed genuinely interested. It was nice.

"It was like... Huh." I pursed my lips, trying to think of the best way to explain it. "Ever read one of those books where all the characters are pitted against each other to get some great prize?"

"Yeah."

"It was kind of like that. You had kids who had parents that hired personal trainers for sports, private tutors, trained musicians, and anything else you can think of. If you walked in the door without all the creases on your clothes perfectly aligned, you were asking for ridicule. Everything had to be perfect and everyone wanted to be the most perfect."

"That sounds like hell. Why'd you stick with it?" Marceline asked. I shrugged.

"It was just what I was used to. Besides, I didn't have too much trouble keeping up. Even though I could never get ahead and was never really good at anything." I mumbled the last part to myself.

"Who said that?" Marceline's question pulled me from my short series of flashbacks, all a montage of sports and clubs and activities that I always managed to only be average at.

"No one _said_ it. I just never won any of the medals or leadership positions or recognition awards. There was always someone better and always someone that could excel while doing nothing even though you spent hours trying to get the basics down. You know when you're good at something and you know when you're not."

"Man, that's rough. Sounds like one of those places that breaks your spirit in twenty minutes or your money back."

"It really wasn't that bad!" I waved my hands in front of me, figuratively wiping away the bad vibes.

"Did you have a lot of friends there or something?"

"Well, yes and no. No one was really friends because of the whole competition thing, but I did talk to a lot of people."

"That is so weird." She shook her head. "I'd have gone nuts. I barely made it through public school without flipping my lid." She flipped her hair and laughed. "Or maybe I already did."

"If you're crazy, then I like crazy." I answered without thinking too much about the connotation the words might carry. I didn't think about them until I saw Marceline's characteristic smirk broaden.

"Oh yeah?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'll have to keep that in mind, Bubblegum." I swallowed hard and avoided eye contact.

"This is my house!" I spoke way too loudly, desperate to break the silence. Marceline laughed and walked with me up the steps.

"Cute place."

"Thanks." I knocked on the door. My heart was in my throat. I was about to have dinner with Marceline. I felt like I could faint.

**A/N: Lots of talking, not much action. My bad! Things should start rolling a bit faster once all the basics get laid out. I think we've got the majority of it down and we can just work with the character and relationship development from here on out. I hope you guys liked the chapter and are having an awesome week. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Hey guys! Sorry for the huge wait for the update. I've had a really crazy month. I hope to have the next chapter up sooner than this one. I plan to finish it up probably by chapter 7 or so. Yeah! So here is the chapter. I don't own Adventure Time or any of the characters.**

"Where have you been?" The question was floating in the air before I saw my mother's face. She stood at the door frame, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression shifted to aggravated intrigue when she saw that I had someone with me and she saw the ratty condition we were in. "What...?"

"Ever think that walking through a girl's soccer practice is a good idea? It's not." Marceline extended a hand and grinned. "I'm Marceline Abadeer. Bubble-uh, Bonnie was helping me with some school stuff after choir let out. I hope that's not a problem." Marceline stepped past my mom, inviting herself into the house. My heart was frozen in my throat. There was no way my mother was not going to kill me for this. When Marceline had passed by, my mother's frown confirmed this.

"It's always nice to meet Bonnibel's friends. You're certainly different than the others." My mother's eyes rested on the band logo patched onto her backpack,

"That doesn't surprise me." Marceline laughed and kicked her shoes off. They landed near the shoe rack. She set her backpack down next to it. The lighting in my house was better than the light outside. It readily showed the injuries she'd acquired through the fight. Though I was still bothered by my mother's impending wrath, my concern shifted to Marceline's well-being.

"If you want, I could lend you something to change in to." My voice came out tense. Checking to see if she was all right was my main priority, but getting out of my mother's glare was a great bonus.

"Huh?" Marceline turned back to me, confused by the offer.

"That soccer practice was um, kind of muddy." We had been in a concrete parking lot. There wasn't a drop of mud, but it was the best thing I could come up with.

"Oh. Right." Marceline raised an eyebrow but motioned for me to lead the way. I put my shoes away, set Marceline's on the bottom rack, and ascended the stairs as quickly as possible.

"It's this one." I opened my door, holding onto my bag tightly in the other hand. As soon as Marceline was in the room, I shut the door.

"What was that about?" Marceline asked as she looked around the room. "Wow. Not a single poster." She commented dryly, eying my desk and nightstand with equal distaste.

"Sorry. I just, well, I wanted to know if you were okay."

"Didn't we already go through this? I'm fine." Marceline picked up one of the pictures, frowned, and set it down again.

"Marceline, your lip is bleeding, it looks like you're not going to be able to open your eye in the morning, and your shirt is torn."

"It's nothing. Stop making such a big deal of it, will you?"

"Well you should still clean up." Her sharpness stung, so when I found and tossed her a basic dress, it was with force.

"It's pink."

"It's not going to burn you." I fumbled through my closet and found a first-aid kit buried in the back. It hadn't had much use. Marceline muttered under her breath. I turned to ask her to repeat herself and was caught staring wide-eyed at her as she pulled her shirt the rest of the way over her head. When Marceline noticed, she cocked her head to the side.

"What now? I'm changing." She rolled her eyes and forced the dress on. I turned away before she took off her pants. I could barely speak a word without stuttering. My voice broke constantly.

"I was, um, going to ask if you were allergic to latex." I had not originally planned on using gloves, but it made for a better excuse than the truth.

"Seriously, Bubs?" She looked herself over in the mirror and wiped her mouth. When blood returned quickly to her lip, she groaned and ran her fingers through her hair. "It'll stop on its own. You don't need to get your pretty hands dirty."

"That's not what I- Ugh!" I took a change of clothes with me to the bathroom, trying to calm down as I changed. For the most part, I had gotten out of the fight unscathed. A few spots on one of my arms looked bad, my back hurt a little bit, and my shin hurt from what I guessed was a kick. I was probably going to be sore in the morning, but it was nothing big. I brushed my hair, washed my face and hands, and let out my breath. By that time, I felt bad for getting mad at Marceline so fast. She'd already had enough trouble today. It would make sense for her to be edgy.

When I walked back into my room, I saw Marceline looking at the rest of the pictures. She looked up and wiped her mouth again.

"You took a long time."

"I-"

"You okay?" Her concern was genuine, though hiding behind a smirk.

"My zipper got caught in my hair." I lied. She laughed.

"That's what happens when you wear these frilly things." She gestured to the dress she was wearing. It looked better on her than it did on me, even though it was certainly too short for her. Her thin frame barely filled the top, but it still looked stunning on her. Her long legs exploited the shortness of the dress, but it looked right.

"That's hardly frilly." I picked up the first-aid kit.

"You're not going to drop this, are you?"

"No. If I dropped it, it might break the box." I mentally high fived myself for the pun and opened the box. "Sit down." I pulled out my desk chair.

"Okay, mom." She sat with a humph. Though she spoke with her usual sarcasm, she seemed flustered. The short sleeves made it easy to clean the scratches on her arms. I grabbed a few cotton balls and doused them in rubbing alcohol. I avoided making eye contact knowing that, if I did, I would be too nervous to continue. "Ouch. Jeez!" She pulled her arm away.

"It's going to sting a little."

"Yeah. A bit late for that warning, Einstein." She begrudgingly placed her arm back on the desk.

"Sorry." I finished cleaning the abrasions on one arm then the other. When I pulled out a band-aid, she put her hands up.

"None of that stuff. I don't want to look like a pansy."

"Fine, have it your way." I tossed the cotton balls into the garbage can beneath my desk and looked at her face. "Can I...?" I held up a cotton ball.

"If you have to." She shut her eyes. I took a deep breath and dabbed at the cut above her eye until it was clean. It looked like it had already closed up on its own. I held a clean cotton ball to her lip.

"Hold it there for a while." She grunted in response and held the cotton ball.

"Am I going to live, doctor?"

"You might make it." She laughed and stood up.

"So what's up with all these pictures?" She asked and pointed toward my dresser.

"Oh. Those are just some of my friends, some family pictures, sentimental stuff."

"Hm."

"What? You sound like you don't believe me."

"Why are you always standing- Never mind."

"Never mind what? What were you going to say?"

"Nothing. Didn't you say I was going to get dinner?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"Then let's go eat."

"Dinner isn't ready yet."

"So? We can watch TV in the living room."

"I think it would be better if we just stayed up here."

"Why?" She asked, standing at my door. I shifted my weight uncomfortably. I had no idea how to tell her that I didn't want my mom breathing down my neck the whole time I was down there. She would be waiting to catch me alone and jump on me for bringing someone over without asking her permission, not to mention coming home late. Marceline's obvious difference from the private school girls my mom let come over didn't help my case.

"I just, um, don't want to get in my mom's way when she's cooking." I made eye contact with the hopes that, by not avoiding eye contact, Marceline would not be suspicious. She raised an eyebrow then shrugged.

"Your family's weird." Though the statement was dismissive, it felt like there was an understanding there. "So what do you got to do up here? Puzzles? Word searches? Trivia games?" It took me a moment to realize she was teasing me.

"I have a computer. Well, I had one. It's broken." I gestured to my desk. "It stopped working last week."

"Yeah? Can I take a look at it?" She was already turning it on before I could answer.

"Um, sure. Go for it." I sat on the bed, not sure what to expect. Without hesitation, Marceline clicked on things and typed things. I watched and tried to comprehend what I could, but a lot of it went by too fast for me to keep up with.

"Okay. After this update finishes installing, you should be good to go." She patted the monitor with a look of pride.

"Woah. That's awesome. Do you do computer stuff?" I asked.

"A little bit. Why?" She asked, suddenly defensive.

"I think that's cool. I know how to use one but, but I don't even know what you just did." I exclaimed. I was able to watch as the percentage of completion increased quickly. Last time I had tried to do a quick scan of the computer before its 'death,' it took three days. "You're like a genius!"

"It's not that complicated." She turned away, appearing almost bashful at the compliment.

"Girls, dinner is ready!" My mother called. My heart skipped a beat.

"Finally. It would've been faster robbing a grocery store."

"That's charming."

"No, that's _true_." She walked out in front of me but let me guide the way to the kitchen. Both my mother and father were waiting at the table, table set and an extra place set.

"Mom, dad, I would like for you to meet my friend. Her name is Marceline Abadeer." I introduced her before she could sit or introduce herself or do something that would otherwise go against my parents' preferred etiquette.

"Abadeer?" My father asked. He looked her over then nodded. "How has your father been?" I blinked a few times, surprised.

"Busy. He's always heading to some business trip or important meeting." She took the seat nearest my mother.

"I'd imagine." My father nodded once and busied himself with eating.

"You have a really beautiful place, ma'am." Marceline's speech turned formal with no warning. "Thank you so much for setting an extra place for me. I feel like I'm imposing." I took a seat, thrown off by her behavior.

"It's not a problem at all, dear." My mother's expression was unreadable. When we made eye contact, it remained unreadable. Dinner went on quietly, tensely and quietly.

"So your mom tells me that you got home late." My father sat back in his seat when he was done with his plate.

"I did."

"Why?"

"Well, choir practice ran a little over because of the announcements for the advanced choir and-"

"And I can't make heads or tails of the biology. I was asking a few questions about homework and it turned into more questions. By the time we left the school, no one but the soccer players were there." Marceline finished my sentence with ease. Her ability to lie surprised me.

"Soccer players?"

"Yeah. I had this brilliant idea to cut through their practice to cut down on time. Both of us got knocked around a lot. They didn't stop their practice or try to avoid us for a minute." She gestured to her face.

"Isn't that the rudest thing you've ever heard?" My mother asked.

"I would've expected them to stop to let students by. However," He leaned forward, hands clasped, "You both should respect a team's practices and avoid interrupting them, even if it does take more time. Sports are hard work."

"You're right, sir." Marceline was only semi-formal with my father. Yet it worked well. He started talking about baseball and she talked back with no trouble. He seemed to get along with her. My mother eventually became readable. She would even laugh at points.

"Now what was that you said about an advanced choir?" My mother asked.

"I was just about to ask that." My father turned his attention to me.

"Oh, well it's a section of the choir that performs in contests."

"When is the audition?" My father asked.

"I'm not sure."

"Why not?" My mother asked. "Are you not planning on even trying? There is no point to being in any club if you are going to only participate."

"I never had any experience singing. I would embarrass myself." I fidgeted nervously with my plate.

"Well that sure sounds like an excuse to me." My mother spoke, my father shook his head.

"I'm planning on tutoring her." Marceline cut off further conversation. "In return for her tutoring me in biology."

"Really?" I almost felt compelled to ask the same question in unison with my parents.

"How?" My father asked.

"Singing is like playing a sport. You don't just naturally know how to do it. You can figure out the basics from watching, but you've got to practice and learn the techniques to be good. Bonnie told me that she didn't have an in-depth vocal class before, and that's normal since you normally have to hire someone privately for that, so I'll be lending her my knowledge." I took a few bites of food to hide the surprise from my face. I had no intent of auditioning. I had no confidence with singing in a competitive setting.

"Of course" My mother added. "It is the same as piano or any other instrument, honey." I felt compelled to roll my eyes. My mother didn't know anything about music.

After a painfully long time, dinner ended. I excused Marceline and I from the dinner table.

"Thank you for having me over." Marceline lifted a hand in farewell and walked toward the door. When out of earshot of the kitchen, I leaned in close and whispered.

"Tutoring me in singing? You've taken voice lessons? And how do you know so much about baseball? Why were you-" Marceline put a finger to my lips.

"Look, it's not hard to see that your parents are total hard asses. I don't want you getting in trouble for something as stupid as not being in a show choir. You seem like a good egg." She put her hands on her hips and looked around for her shoes.

"That's... that's really cool of you. Thanks. I owe you big time."

"Don't worry about it." She put on her shoes and backpack. "I owe you for back there." I shook my head. Before I could say anything, she shushed me. "Now _that_ was cool." In my flustered silence, she opened the door and stepped out. "See you tomorrow, Princess."

**A/N: Guess what happens next chapter? We actually get to the plot. Cool, huh? **


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